Royals

Would you like to be one?

And Lord it all about

Have flowers, bows, and curtsies

And walk the cheering route

Smiling at the babies

Hugging all the Grans

Even though you’re sick and tired

You must please all your fans

Oh, it’s hard to be a Royal

When you can’t do wrong for right

You’re dying to dress in crazy clothes

And dance right through the night

But if you do - it’s certain sure

That disguised there in the throng

Will be a rave reporter

Who’ll snap you doing wrong

Slurring all your adjectives

Cross-eyed in your beer

‘Drunk in charge of Country’

Is the Anthem that You’ll hear!

So - you try to be more careful

And stay home every night

Tucked up in your palace

With not a blonde in sight

Just corgis for your company

Slippers and TV

What’s the point in being rich?

If you can’t be wild and free

So I’m sorry for the Royals

I’d rather just be me

Unrestricted by a Crown

Or reporters stalking me

I’ll leave them to their Royalty

To their lives lived in the lense

Prisms of the media

Creating latest trends

We‘ll look for them in magazines

In glad-rags, hats and all

And make believe they’re ‘other’

When they’re really not at all!


Jan Cole

© Copyright Act 1994